St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-10-12

tIi$ ulOIl Il (ClNSl0ili cli-
IVY nouncing the disaster
& of Reichshoffen. Two
hours later he was in the express train
for Paris. ell route for the recruiting
office of a regiment of the line.
Absorbed as he had been in the ener-
waiting existence of the Partisan eXquiS-
lite, an existence from nineteen To thirty
passed i'll the alternating eXcitementS
and riYalrieS of the stables of the course
and the boudOirs of the opera singers, he
had almost forgotten that he came of a
race of gallant and military ancestors;
that Engucrrand de HardimOnt had died
at his post in the trenches before TuniS:
that Jean and st. Louis de HardimOnt
commanded the celebrated "Grandes
C" under Du Guesclin. and that
Francois Henri de Hardimont had lost
his life While charging at the head OF
his regiment during the last campaign.
He remembered it quickly enough,
however, and his face burned with
shame when he learned through the
columns of the journals that
A BATTLE HAD BEEN FOUGHT
at last upon the territory of France
fought and lost.
This was the reason why. in the first
days of November. lS-Henri de Hardi-
mont, exquisite" and member of the
Jockey club. entering into Paris as a
common soldier, found himself as
signed to duty at the redoubt of Les
HauteS-Bruyeres. position fortified i'll
haste to protect the cannon of the Fort
Bicetre.
Truly, the place was sinister enough
"a heavily travelled road, adj scanned
and cut up with muddy rutS. traversing
the leprous fields of the outskirts, and
on the edge of this route an abandoned
wine shop surrounded by arbors, be-
meath which the soldiers had established
their post. A battle had been fought
the balls from the mitrail-
leuSe had ravaged the shrubbery,
Splintered the branches and left upon
the bark of the trees the white and
CHASTITY cicatrices of that ram of fire.
As for the house itself, the sight of it
made you Shudder: the roof crushed by
shell. the walls stained with wine
spots like splasheS of blood, the arbors
ripped open and Quilted by grape-shot,
and under their network of blackened
twigS rows of empty hogSheadS creak-
ing and saving in the wind: and above
all, an ugly winter sky, an angry, ma
levolent heaven, through which were
scudding with spiteful haste clouds as
black as lead.
MOTIONLESS AS 4 STATUTE
the young duke stood in the door of
the cabaret, his rifle in his shoulder
belt. his KEPT over his eyes, his hands
in his pOckets-to keep them warm, but
Shiyering even under the sheepSkin
which wrapped his body. Abandoned
to gloomy thoughts. this soldier of de-
feat retarded with heart-broken look
the creSS of the hill, lost in the fog, but
from which came every instant wreath
of smoke and the boom of a Krupp gun.
All at once he felt that he was hungry,
and, kneeling on the ground, drew from
his sack, leaning against the wall beside
him, piece of Brown George (con-
tract bread and began to slowly eat it.
A few mouthfuls. however. seemed to
satisfy his hunger, for the bread was
stale, hard, and with singularly bitter
taste; they would have fresh distributed
to them tomorrow, so it was said: at
least, the cOmmiSSary wished to dis
tribute it, if he could.
1t was rough business at best. and
for the moment he thought regretfully
of the meals which in former times he
was wont to call ''hygienic breakfasts
when the morning after supper little
too exciting he would seat himself at the
window of the Cafe Angiais, and they
would serve him, ma fCi, with the
daintieSt of thingS-a outlet delicately
brOiled, pOached eggs with asparagus
tips, and bottle of old Leoville softly
bedded in its basket OF ice. 1t was a
good time, all the same. He could never
accustom himself to this bread of misery
and in moment of Impotence the
young duke lifted his hand and flung
the rest of the loaf into the road before
him.
A soldier of the guard, at the moment
coming from the cabaret, saw the action
of the duke and the bread in the mud.
He stopped, picked it up, wiped it clean
on the sleeve of his jacket and began to
devcur it with avidity. Henri de Hardi-
mont, already ashamed of his impa-
thence, watching him with establishment
and pity. He was great, tall fellow,
badly formed, with hollow, feverish
eyes. a hospital beard, and of such ex-
blades were plainly visible even through
the folds of his threadbare Overcoat.
Are you so hungry, then. comrade?"
De HardlmOnt questioned, drawing
nearer to the man and scanning him
curiously.
LAS you see" he responded, his mouth
full of bread.
Excuse me-" continued the duke.
shut if / had known that you wanted it
"'Tisn't bad.' replied the soldier.
land, besides, Pm not squeamish."
Nevertheless, what did was wrong"
said De Hardimont. I'm sorry for il;
but as | do not wish you to have a bad
opinion of me. and | have flask of old
COgnac in the sack, let us drink of it
together"
Having finished his bread, the man
assented, and with swallow of eau-de-
vie the acquaintance was made.
And now, my FRIEND" cried the
trooper. cordially, what dost thou call
thyself?;'
;'Hardimont," replied the duke, sup
pressing his title and the ''de" before
his name; land thou?"
Jean Victor, but they only placed
me in the company to-day; l come from
the ambulance, and was
WOUNDED II CHATILLON.
All, but it was good in that ambulance,
and in the intirmary where they gave
you such excellent horse soup. / was
only scratched, however, worse luck for
ne, and the major soon gave me my dis
missal. | shall famish anew with hun
ger, for, believe me or believe me not
as you please. cOmrade. but as you see
me to-day have always been-hungry
during the whole Of my life"
This statement was frightful, made to
a young yoiuptuary who only while
ago was regretting the cuisine of the
Cafe Anglais. and the Duke de Hardi-
mont regarded his companion with an
establishment almost painful. The sol
der answered by mournful smile-a
smile that showed you row of wolfish
teeth. white and hungry-look!ng, in his
cadayerous face.
s'Yet stay,n said he. compromising